“You’re missing everything!” he interrupted breathlessly. “Don’t you want to see Mrs. Drake getting torn to shreds?”
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean? By whom?”
“I don’t know. Some man is pointing at all the gross stuff on the outside of the building and yelling. The dragon is crying. It’s great!”
“Aha.” Emil stepped up beside her, arms crossed, clearly pleased. “Looks like the favor came through.”
“What did you do?”
“I asked Harvey Gunn to send someone down from the inspector’s office,” he said with an obscene amount of satisfaction. “Your landlords have ignored every regulation under the sun. It’s time they paid for it. And judging by Robbie’s description, they’re about to be hit with one very hefty fine. Possibly one that puts them out of business.”
“You devilish man,” she breathed. “How I adore you.”
The door burst open a second time, this time revealing Winnie and Clem, slightly out of breath. Winnie helped Clem through the doorway, one hand on her elbow, while Clem clutched something tightly in her fist with a look of barely-contained excitement.
“Good gracious, he’s quick,” Winnie panted.
Clem met her gaze and demanded, “Have you settled everything?”
“Yes, we did.” Olive stepped forward to fold her friend into a tight hug. “Thank you, Clem. Your offer means more than I can say. You’re the kind of friend every woman should be lucky enough to have. But…we’re going to the Anderson floating home.” She glanced at Emil, offering a sheepish smile. “He’ll sleep somewhere else tonight. And tomorrow…” She turned back to Clem. “We’re getting married.”
“And we’d be honored,” Emil added, “if you two would be our witnesses.”
Olive’s heart swelled again. How she adored this man.
Clem’s face lit up, and she pulled Olive into another hug. “I’m very happy for you,” she whispered. “You deserve every ounce of joy this world can offer.”
“She does,” Emil said gruffly.
“My turn,” Winnie announced, wrapping her arms around them both.
“Let us breathe,” Clem huffed a moment later. Then, straightening, she turned serious. “Besides, now we can tell her.”
“Tell me what?”
Clem held up the crumpled paper she’d been clutching. “While we were watching your landlord get raked over the coals, a telegram arrived from Aunt Della. It’s the count.”
Olive gasped. The Senate vote count. She’d been so caught up in everything—her mother’s recovery, Robbie’s homecoming, her decision to move, her love for Emil—she’d completely forgotten why Clem and Winnie had come in the first place.
“But…” she faltered, “Rhoda isn’t here.”
Winnie’s expression tightened. “No, and I can’t tell you how much it burns my insides. But you know what she’d say.” Olive nodded, already hearing Rhoda’s voice in her head. “She’d tell us to stop dawdling and open the damn telegram.”
“That she would,” Clem agreed, laughing.
“Why don’t the three of you take the kitchenette?” Emil murmured. “Robbie and I will sit with your mother.”
She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, darling.”
The three women crowded into the kitchenette, shoulder to shoulder. Clem carefully unfolded the telegram, and the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. Olive barely dared to breathe as Clem’s eyes scanned the words in silence. Then, slowly, she looked up. Her eyes shimmered with tears.
“It passed.”
Olive gasped, her hand flying to her chest. “We did it?”
Clem nodded, dazed. “The vote moves to the people next year.”
“We did it!” Winnie shrieked. “Oh my God, we did it!”
